


Weekend Trip

by crocodilepatronus



Category: Actor RPF, Music RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 22:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11496543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocodilepatronus/pseuds/crocodilepatronus
Summary: Beyonce realizes that she and Jordan have a different idea of what an ideal weekend getaway is.





	Weekend Trip

It was 2 A.M. and they’d just finished having sex when Beyonce said “Hey…” hesitantly, stroking a slow circle on Jordans’ chest “So, baby…”

 

Jordan chuckled. “Oh no.”

 

Beyonce frowned and sat stock up in bed, glaring down at him with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean ‘oh no’?” she asked coldly.

 

The replying smile was innocent. “Just that… when girls say ‘so, baby’ in that tone? Usually not a good thing. For me.”

 

“Well fine,” Bey snapped, “Forget about it then.”

 

She flopped down on her back in the bed with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, staring at the ceiling. There was a crack in it and she hated it. A crack with a brown stain around it. Water damage from the idiot upstairs’ bath tub.

 

Their apartment was filled with nice furniture. Beyonce had picked the items out. Whenever they got a paycheck that pushed them over the edge of having enough to get by, she would buy something nice. It was a slow process but she wanted them to be surrounded by nice things. She wanted to have a dream home. She felt like if she could fill even their small space of their one bedroom apartment with smooth, modern, ikea pieces and fluffy rugs and bowls of flowers that they could play pretend that they were already rich and famous. And someday soon? They really would be. And the change would flow more smoothly because they’d spent so much time practicing at it.

 

But that stupid ugly crack in the ceiling fucked her up every time. And reminded her that they both still had day jobs that they hated and under a million hits on their soundcloud songs.

 

It wasn’t like they weren’t happy. Beyonce had never been happier in her life. She woke up at 7 A.M. next to a man that she loved, smelling like him after a night of being wrapped up in his arms. She went to work and slogged through and came home to chinese take out and kisses on the forehead. They spent every night making music together. She’d never dated someone who she could make music with before. All they had was a laptop with Garage Band on it and a keyboard that they’d found in a dumpster in West Hollywood that had synth noises on it and a convincing ‘grand piano’ option. Bey sang and played melodies on the keyboard. Jordan rapped and produced the music, remixing it and adding drum and bass on the computer. He was like a wizard on that thing, making the songs sound like they had a full orchestra in their apartment just by messing around with a few different programs. Beyonce sometimes couldn’t even figure out how to work her e-mail.

 

She could write a tune and he’d breathe life into it. That’s how every part of their relationship seemed to work. Beyonce led the way and Jordan followed her vision, filling it with color and detail and hope and laughter. She’d never been in love before until she met him. Never known that it could feel like that.

 

But despite it all sometimes it felt like it wasn’t enough. Beyonce wanted to love every minute of their life but sometimes it just wasn’t what she expected. And Beyonce wasn’t good at handling the unexpected.

 

She’d had her life planned out since she was 6 years old. Extensively strategized and played through with Barbies and doll houses and too much time spent alone with an overactive imagination and sense of ambition. A successful music career- she’d start as a teen, break out star, name in lights, every single would top the charts. Her house would have a pool and a jacuzzi and the maid would come around with margaritas before five o’clock. Vacations in the tropics- her own private jet and a penthouse hotel room wherever she stayed.

 

But most importantly she’d always thought she’d marry young in a beautiful over the top white wedding with a 20 foot long veil and a designer dress to a rich husband who’d worship the ground she walked on and lend her his black card whenever she wanted to go shopping. He’d always hold the door open for her and when they went to sleep at night he’d take her heels off while she sat at the end of the bed and kiss from her ankles up to her neck.

 

Her life hadn’t really turned out like that. Though lord knows she was trying. Maybe the jacuzzi was a bit too much to hope for. And maybe not EVERY single had to be top of the charts. But she and Jordan had only been able to perform their music a handful of times, though each time it had gone amazing. It just was hard to succeed. They were waiting for their break and Beyonce HATED waiting for anything.

 

And she wasn’t a wife. She and Jordan had been living together for over a year but she didn’t think he was eager to pop the question. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure if getting married was an option in his mind. Maybe it didn’t fit in with his heavy ‘hip hop super star lifestyle’ as he jokingly called it. Jordan never held the door for her- in fact, sometimes when she looked away for a minute he’d eat her french fries off her plate. And he never took her heels off for her. Sometimes she had to pull his sneakers off for HIM when he came home late and tried to flop into bed fully clothed. But he did worship the ground she walked on. That much was true. It just wasn’t… like how she’d envisioned. Sometimes she thought that was okay. Other times she felt dissatisfied.

 

“Jordan, I want to go on a vacation.” she said firmly, still glaring up at that crack in the ceiling.

 

She could practically hear him wincing in the pause of silence.

 

“I can’t take any vacation days off for work right now… and you can’t either, you know… ” he said slowly, as if a little scared she would snap at him.

 

She huffed. “Well then we’ll take a weekend trip. I need to GO somewhere.”

 

She felt a hand tickling at her stomach and she finally tore her gaze away from the crack in the ceiling to look at the man lying next to her. His eyes were dark in the dim light of the room but they always seemed warm to her. Like big soft puppy eyes. Especially when they gazed at her with all the love in the world.

 

“Okay. We’ll go somewhere this weekend.” he agreed.

 

A grin broke Beyonce’s face. She was already thinking about five star hotels and a fully functioning spa and eating fresh lobster with white wine.

 

\- - -

 

That Friday afternoon Beyonce waited patiently for Jordan to get home, her bags all packed and neatly arranged in order of size on the floor by the door. He’d said he would handle everything and she felt like a princess. She couldn’t wait to see what he had planned.

 

When the door finally opened and he came in, the front door from work she knew she had the biggest grin on her face to see him.

 

“Let me just grab my bags!” he said after she kissed him in greeting.

 

“Did you rent a car for the weekend?” she asked him from the other room as she heard him rummaging around in the bedroom. The noise paused for a second and the silence on the other end should have been a little worrying to her but she was too ecstatic to be skeptical.

 

“Uh- no.” Jordan said, a little hesitantly, after a moment. “We’re gonna get picked up.”

 

Beyone gasped. “Like in a limo?! Jordan! We don’t have that type of money!” she squealed but it was obvious from her tone she was thrilled.

 

Jordan walked back into the room with his bags in hand and looked at her as if she was crazy.

 

“A limo…? The fuck? Damn right we don’t have that type of money.”

 

The grin dropped from Beyonce’s face and she glared at him. Suddenly reality was crashing down and she realized maybe it had been a mistake to let Jordan ‘handle’ things. “But the place we’re staying at is nice, right?” she asked, a warning in her tone.

 

“Uhh” Jordan answered noncommittally. “It’s some digs my friend is gonna get us into I guess. I didn’t really get the details.”

 

“You didn’t get the-“ Beyonce cut off mid sentence because she was fuming too hard to speak. She forced herself to breathe in through her nose and closed her eyes (seeing red). “Jordan.” she said, hoping smoke wasn’t coming out of her ears at this point. “What the fuck kind of weekend did you plan for us exactly?”

 

She was about to demand answers when she was cut off by the sound of tires squealing across pavement and the muffled but earth quakingly loud beat of 80s new wave music coming from outside their apartment building.

 

Beyonce turned in anger toward the window to see “Who the fuck is that?”

 

“That’s our ride!” Jordan said enthusiastically, grabbing Beyonce’s bags and running out the door so she was forced to follow him, slamming their apartment and locking it shut behind herself.

 

When she got outside she saw the source of the music was a 1980s red Pontiac convertible. It looked like the car was falling apart in some places- duct tape was half covering the right headlight. It had about 15 bobbleheads on the dashboard which were all shaking violently from the volume that “One Thing Leads To Another” by The Fixx was playing at, the noise coming out slightly scratchy from the cassette stereo.

 

A lanky guy wearing rectangular framed tinted sunglasses, a puca shell necklace, and a Star Wars t-shirt bounced out of the passenger seat and ran up to Jordan, clapping him on the back.

 

“Marco Bro-lo! Bronan the Barbarian! Brobi Wan Kenobi! How you doing, man?” the guy said excitedly, talking fast and loud, and pulling Jordan into an enthusiastic hug. When he pulled away he saw Beyonce and flicked his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose, a singularly naughty smirk curling his lips.

 

“And is this your better half?” he said.

 

“Rosey, this is Beyonce. Beyonce- this is Michael Rosenbaum.” Jordan said, looking totally at ease while Beyonce forced with every inch of available strength for her lips to form a polite smile and managed to only come away with a half grimace.

 

“Nice to meet you.” she said stiffly.

 

“I’ll throw your bags in the trunk” Michael offered.

 

Beyonce found it was hard to move the muscles of her face now that they were permanently fixed in the half grimace half smile but as soon as Michael was out of ear range, Beyonce hissed out of the corner of her mouth: “Jordan… this was supposed to be a weekend of just the two of us… a ROMANTIC get away…. Who the fuck are these people?”

 

A vampiric looking girl was behind the wheel, slender fishnet covered legs ending in black Doc Martens propped up on the dashboard. She was tapping the cigarette in her hand to the beat of the song despite the grim, intimidatingly sour expression on her face. When she pushed her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to look at them, Beyonce saw her eyes were covered in liner and shadow as pitch black as her lipstick. She jerked her chin toward them in a sort of bro-nod that she seemed to think was sufficient introduction.

 

Beyonce waved at her mechanically but the girl didn’t seem to notice or care.

 

“Michael’s cool.” Jordan offered as if that fixed anything at all. “He’s one of Majid’s friends.”

 

“That is NOT reassuring.” Beyonce said.

 

But Jordan touched Beyonce’s wrist lightly with the back of his knuckles and gave her a soft smile. Her smile. That little spark of a gentleness only she ever got.

 

“C’mon. This is gonna be fun.”

 

“HOP IN!” Michael shouted from the car. Beyonce took another deep breath but let Jordan lead her by the hand into the back seat.

 

It was a little cramped back there and Beyonce had to pull her knees up to her chest to really fit. Jordan was smushed against her.

 

The ride was chaos. The goth girl in the driver’s seat was driving like she was on a racetrack and the 80s pop music was ear achingly loud. What was even louder was Michael singing along to every song. He wasn’t wearing a seat belt and kept arching up out of his seat to dance or use his fingers to drum out the beat on the dashboard. Frequently he swiveled around fully in his seat to shout at Beyonce and Jordan to give him back up vocals. Jordan just smiled at him awkwardly and nodded along, occasionally pretending to mumble along with the song.

 

Everytime they went racing around a curve at top speed Beyonce was sure that Michael was going to go fall straight out of the car but he seemed to defy gravity even when he had one foot up on the dashboard to more effectively hump the air and fist pump to “You Spin Me Right Round Like A Record”.

 

“Jordan, where the fuck are these crazy white people taking us” Beyonce whispered in Jordan’s ear which was practically smushed up against her lips anyway because of the small backseat.

 

“Rosey said he’s gonna hook us up with a place to stay by the beach.” Jordan whispered back.

 

“And let me guess. You didn’t ask anymore questions after that? His ‘hook up’ could be a porta-pottie for all we know.”

 

Jordan tsk-ed at her.

 

“Jordan Ullman, I am not pleased right now.” Beyonce said coldly, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

They got stuck in traffic on the highway. When Rosey got bored of leaning out the side of the car and trying to start conversations by shouting at people in nearby cars (they all heckled him) he turned around in his seat to give his full attention to Jordan and Beyonce.

 

“Majid says you guys all work on music together. That’s rad. He says that you-“ he pointed a finger at Beyonce. “-have the voice of an angel.”

 

‘Majid should keep my damn name out of his mouth’, is what Beyonce thought but she didn’t say it out loud. Majid worked about five different jobs (night club DJ, bar tender, and most bizzarre of all a business consultant by day even though he set up his schedule so he could sleep until 3 P.M. most days), had ten different girlfriends at any given time, and practically lived on Jordan and Beyonce’s couch. But he was always surrounded by a cast of eccentric characters- Michael Rosenbaum was not even the strangest of the ones Beyonce had had to meet.

 

“So how do you know Majid?” Beyonce asked, raising her voice to be heard over the music.

 

“We both auditioned to do some voice acting for a Trojan condom commercial. Easy money kind of shit. I struck up a conversation with him because he seemed cool and then we ended up going clubbing. Dude’s a GGEEENIUS!”

 

Beyonce blinked at him skeptically. “So… you do voices for commercials for a living?”

 

“No. I’m an actor. Well, struggling actor currently. My last three gigs got cancelled or had their funding pulled before they could even air. But I’ve got a call back for a pilot in a week so fingers crossed.” he said with a grin.

 

“Okay.” Beyonce said slowly. He was certainly theatrical enough. “Well… who’s she?” she said, pointing to the girl driving.

 

“Her?” Michael said with innocent surprise “That’s my girlfriend.”

 

“Does she _talk_?” Beyonce asked dryly.

 

The girl from the front seat said “Bite me.” and then turned her attention back to the road.

 

“Jesus…..” Beyonce muttered under her breath sourly.

 

Michael opened the glove compartment and several objects came cascading down to the floor including a few wigs? And he pulled out a bong.

 

“You wanna get lit?” he offered.

 

“Sure” Jordan said at the same moment that Beyonce shrieked “NO!”

 

“Are you serious right now? We’re in a convertible with the top down in the middle of a city. There could be cops anywhere!” Beyonce sputtered as Michael packed the bowl from a baggie he’d taken from his pocket.

 

Jordan looked around once. “I don’t see any cops.”

 

Michael coughed as he exhaled a huge flume of smoke from between his lips and grinned mellowly at them. “Dope.”

 

Jordan took the bong from him as Beyonce had an out of body experience wondering how her life had led to this moment. Jordan held the lighter to the bowl and took a deep suck from the chamber until it cleared, closing his eyes and tilting his head back so she could see his adam’s apple bob as he held it down before exhaling in a stream into the air between full lips. He did look hot doing that but ‘now is not the time’. Michael took the bong from him and passed it to the goth girl.

 

“Absolutely not!” Beyonce practically shrieked. “She’s driving!”

 

“It’s all good!” Michael placated. “We’ll wait til we get to the stop sign.”

 

“That’s not the problem!”

 

She put her head in her hands as the driver took a hit while they paused momentarily in traffic.

 

Jordan took his second hit but Beyonce was leaning away from him as far as she could in the tight space. The whole car smelled faintly of skunk now even with the top down.

 

“What’s wrong?” Jordan asked.

 

“You fuckin’ dumbass” Beyonce muttered under her breath.

 

“So where’s this place we’re headed to again?” Jordan said.

 

“Jus’ a lil’ slice of heaven by the beach. Got a buddy who told me we could crash there.”

 

Beyonce was reeling. It might not even be a hotel. Just some asshole’s house by the beach. It could be a shack with surf boards propped up in it for all she knew.

 

“I’ll try to put us in rooms that aren’t right next to each other” Michael said with a lasciovious leer, waggling his eyebrows “Me and my goth bitch can get a little noisy at night” he said, leaning over the front seat to lick a stripe up the driver’s neck. She turned in her seat to reciprocrate, leaning over and letting him lick her tongue. The car swerved out of the correct lane and Beyonce screamed at full volume.

 

“WATCH THE FUCKING ROAD!”

 

The car corrected back into the right lane while nearby drivers honked and cursed at them but Beyonce was hyperventilating.

 

“That is IT! I am out of here!” she shouted, standing up in her seat with some effort, elbowing Jordan out of her way and opening the door, forcing the driver to screech to a halt. Without grabbing any of her things she hopped out and began walking.

 

“Bey!” she heard Jordan calling after her.

 

“I am not getting back in that car!” she shouted without turning around. She heard him make a noise of frustration and say something to Michael. Probably to go on without them. The car peeled away, leaving the sound of 80s music trailing behind it in its wake as it sped past her.

 

She kept walking as if she didn’t notice.

 

Jordan jogged to catch up to her and put his hand on her shoulder but she brushed him off.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

She bit the inside of her cheek, glaring straight ahead, not dignifying the question by looking at him. “You really gonna ask me that?! I wanted to go on vacation. Just you and me. Go someplace nice. RELAX for once. Not go riding around with your sleazy, weirdass, friends who I don’t even know.”

 

“You’re the one that needs to relax!” Jordan sputtered.

 

“Oh fucking really?!” Beyonce snapped, turning her head and raising her voice.

 

“Yeah, fucking really!” Jordan shouted back, matching her tone and stepping up to her. “It’s not my fault you can’t ever chill out and enjoy the moment! Sometimes you just gotta go with the flow!”

 

“This isn’t about that! It’s about- fuck it. You don’t understand.” Beyonce shouted in frustration, turning around and stomping forward.

 

Jordan didn’t say anything. He sighed and lit a cigarette and kept walking, a little bit behind her. They continued on for a few minutes but he didn’t say anything or try to defend himself and that pissed her off so finally she whirled on him. He stopped. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and was looking at her calmly. Beyonce was not feeling calm.

 

“I mean don’t you ever get sick and tired of it? Never having time off and when we do, not having enough money to do anything? Hanging out in shitty dives with shitty people who are just as pathetic as we are? Because I’m kind of sick of it!”

 

Jordan quirked a smile, shaking his head slightly. “I’m sorry we’re not moved into the McMansion yet, babe.” he chuckled. But him joking only added fuel to the fire.

 

“Well sorry isn’t good enough!”

 

He lolled his head to one side, laughing under his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. “You’re asking a lot.”

 

“I want a lot! And I can’t help it. The music we make is BEAUTIFUL! The music YOU make is BEAUTIFUL! What we do together! I want the world to see how great it is.” she heard her own voice crack when she realized what she’d said and the anger drained out of her. Her shoulders dropped and she shook her head.

 

The sun was going down. Cars passed by, the air kicked up by their velocity just close enough that it rustled her hair slightly with every passing blur.

 

“You wanna know if I ever get sick of it?” Jordan finally spoke. She looked back at him with shamefully watery eyes. “Not really.”

 

He smiled and shrugged one shoulder. Always unflappable and cool even when she was throwing a fit.

 

“Cause life with you is better than I ever thought I’d have.” he said. “I know it doesn’t always meet your expectations. But for me? I never thought I’d get this far. Living in an apartment with a gorgeous woman I don’t deserve. Who’s talented. And smart.” his grin grew wider. “And always buying weird shit for our house I never heard of like fucking melon ball-ers and ‘throw pillows’ and whatever the fuck.”

 

Beyonce laughed despite herself and the laugh just made a tear leak out of the corner of her eye which she brushed away hastily.

 

“I’m sorry if I can’t make it as good as you want it to be.” he said. “But for me, everything’s perfect.”

 

She wiped more tears from her eyes and sniffled loudly. When Jordan came up to her she let him take her into his arms and nuzzle her face against his neck, getting snot and tears all over the collar of his shirt.

 

“I’m sorry” she sniffed. “I’m such a brat.”

 

“No you’re not.” he rubbed her back. “Because one day we’ll have all that shit you dreamed of. You just have to be willing to be patient with me, okay, baby?”

 

She nodded and squeezed him tight. He was solid against her, thick arms and a chest she could lean her full weight on. And that might not have been a luxury dream vacation, but his grip around her was home, sure enough.

 

They continued walking, this time side by side. Their shoulders bumped occasionally. She twisted her fingers into his and he swung their arms gently like he was a little kid or something.

 

The summer air was humid and Beyonce took her jacket off and tied it around her waist. The sunset had exploded into smashed fruit colors, a gradient of orange and yellow and pink like a peach. With big fluffy purple clouds. And with Jordan’s fingers twined in hers and the cool breeze coming off the distant waterfront and ruffling her hair, she felt happy to be alive even if they were just hitch hiking down the side of a highway that smelled like smog and gasoline.

 

By the time the sun had gone down fully and the sky had gone dark, they stopped at a pizza parlor on the side of the road. It was not michelin rated. They didn’t even have an air conditioner. The floor tiles were peeling, someone in the back was shouting in Italian, a fruit fly was buzzing loudly overhead. Beyonce filled up a slushy from a machine that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 60s and was groaning with every swirl of neon colored fake fruit drink. Jordan got his cellphone out and texted Michael asking him to pick them up again.

 

“What flavor?” Jordan asked, appearing stealthily behind Beyonce and whispering in her ear.

 

“Orange crush but I mixed in some blue raspberry.” she offered the drink to him over his shoulder and he leaned down to take a suck.

 

“That’s nasty.” he admitted, making a sour face.

 

“Oh? Doesn’t live up to your discerning palette?” Beyonce raised her eyebrow at him. “Guess if it’s not three day old General Tso’s, it’s not good enough.”

 

“Hey” Jordan chided, “General Tso’s gets better the longer you leave it in the fridge! Lets the juices soak in and shit.”

 

“THAT’S nasty.” Bey shook her head.

 

“YOU’RE nasty” Jordan pouted, muttering under his breath.

 

She smiled, grabbing his chin and scratching the scruff growing there before kissing him on the lips. He really had the most kissable lips. Full and soft and as he opened up his mouth to hers she gave them a gentle bite before turning her head away.

 

“See?” Jordan said, running his tongue over where she’d kissed him. “Nasty.”

 

She trailed her fingertips down his neck, pausing to rub the pads of her thumb against his adam’s apple and then rest them against the hollows of his collarbone visible just above the collar of his shirt. His big hands reached around, pulling her to him flush against his warm chest. It was too hot in the damn pizza parlor. Who doesn’t have A/C in Hollywood in 2017? But then he was kissing her again, for real this time, and damn if nothing else in her life was like she’d imagined, his kisses were everything she ever could have wished for as a daydreaming teenager. Like a movie. He leaned her back slightly and she gave into being goofy and even let one leg pop, like they did in the big climactic romance scene.

 

“So am I forgiven?” Jordan said when he pulled away, a little breathless, his swollen lips quirking halfway up in a self deprecating smile.

 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Beyonce said. “I should be the one saying sorry for being too bossy. You know I love you, Jordan. And even when things don’t turn out my way and I throw a fit, Just know that…” she smiled, looking down at the floor and hoping she didn’t sound too cheesy. “You’re my dream guy. Always.”

 

She was about to go in for another kiss but they heard the sound of wheels kicking up gravel and the muffled sound of OMD blasting from car speakers.

 

Beyonce sighed only a little bit as she got into the backseat of the car once more. Michael twisted around in his seat and winked at her. “Knew you’d be back for more.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him.

 

“If You Leave” was playing on the cassette player. Rosenbaum had his arm around his girlfriend and was cooing the lyrics quietly in her ear. In the back seat Jordan still had his hand tightly entwined with Beyonce’s. He was taking advantage of them being forced so close together by nuzzling his nose against her neck, leaving kisses against her collarbone.

 

_“I touch you once, I touch you twice, I won’t let go at any price. I need you now, like I needed you then…”_

 

Beyonce ran her hand down Jordan’s thigh and around to his back, tickling her fingers against his spine under his shirt.

 

Then the car came to such an abrupt stop that Beyonce swung forward in the seat and almost bit her own tongue.

 

“We’re HEEEEERE!” Michael crowed, leaping up out of his seat.

 

Beyonce looked with great apprehension at where their final destination was… and her jaw dropped.

 

The hotel had a sleek modern style and at night lit up by glowing windows. There were balconies to every room and the entry way was decorated by palm trees, elegantly designed fountains, and an elaborate and pristinely maintained garden. A valet in a tailored uniform came up to the car.

 

“We’re friends of Mr.Luthor.” Michael said smugly.

 

The butler type man nodded solemnly, “Yes, sir, we have been expecting you. We have two deluxe rooms prepared for you and the V.I.P spa staff are at your service until 3 A.M. Would you like to take your dinner in the lounge or in the pavillion tonight?”

 

Beyonce’s jaw continued to stay dropped.

 

“I think we want to settle in first. You can get the bags and the car, Jeeves. Oh, and make sure there’s something fruity and VERY alcoholic waiting in our room. With some of those little parasols in it.” Michael joked easily. His girlfriend tossed the keys to the attendant who caught them deftly.

 

Jordan had to nudge Beyonce out of her seat to get her moving. She finally closed her mouth.

 

“Isn’t this place hilarious?” Michael leaned in to talk out of ear shot of the attendants who were following them a feet behind with their luggage. “Some dude I met at a night club took me to a party here and I guess he’s like super loaded and well connected. Now I can come up here once a month and stay for free. Pretty rad huh? They’ve got like a 10 foot long jacuzzi and each guest has their own personal sommelier. Sure beats our shit hole apartment.”

 

“We steal the complimentary soaps and sell them for $50 each on ebay,” his girlfriend added.

 

“I think you just became Beyonce’s new best friend.” Jordan chuckled.

 

Beyonce continued to stay awe struck as they walked through the trip through the lobby with the giant gold and diamond chandelier and the glass elevator that smelled like roses. Finally when they got to the hallway of their rooms Michael announced that they were splitting off for the night to go to their own suite.

 

Beyonce grabbed him and squeezed his lanky string bean body between her arms in a tight hug and said “Thankyou,thankyou,thankyou,thankyou!!”

 

She could hear Jordan laughing hysterically at her behind them but she didn’t care.

 

Michael was blushing when she pulled away and grinned, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Hey, save the loving for your man over there. He’s the one who said this weekend had to be absolutely perfect for you.”

 

Beyonce felt fresh tears welling up in her eyes. Jordan really had come through.

 

“Besides, you don’t want to make my woman jealous” Michael added, turning to look at his girlfriend. “Right, babe?”

 

She was on her phone, not paying attention. After a moment of him staring at her she looked up with a raised eyebrow. “….you talking to me?” she drawled.

 

He leapt over to her, sweeping her into his arms and tilting her chin up with one finger. “I can tell from your tone that you’re deeply hurt and trying not to show it. Don’t worry. We’ll have wild make up sex now.” and dragged her down the hall, waving cheerfully at Beyonce and Jordan as they left.

 

Beyonce spent a solid 10 minutes freaking out over the inside of their suite. It had a giant bed with fluffy pillows and duvet, a glass coffee table, a full private bar, a glass steam shower, and a tub that had jacuzzi jets in it. Not to mention the belgian chocolates on the pillows and the flat screen TV. When she’d finally settled down, Jordan was making himself a drink and she was making snow angel movements on the bed, enjoying the feeling of Egyptian cotton.

 

“Hey” Bey said, staring at the ceiling. There wasn’t a crack on it. In a way, though, she missed that ceiling on the apartment crack. This was great but funnily enough she was looking forward to going home too. As long as Jordan was there, that was all that mattered. “So, baby.”

 

Jordan looked up from the bar and smirked. He looked oddly at home and casual in the luxurious room.

 

“Would you come take my shoes off for me?” Beyonce asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

She scooted her butt down so her legs were hanging off the end of the bed and Jordan kneeled beside her on the floor. She bit her lip when she felt his hands trail up her ankles as he gently lifted her foot from the shoe like cinderella. He kissed her achilles’ tendon, open mouthed. Then he took the other shoe off and looked up at her form between her legs, running his hands up the back of her calves slowly.

 

He kissed her knee and then sat up on his haunches, pulling her by the waist farther down the bed and undoing the button on her shorts. She quickly helped him pull them off and threw them to the ground. She was about to pull her panties off next but he stopped her hands and pressed his face against her, licking a slow stripe through the lace fabric then tugging it down with his teeth.

 

“Jordan…” Beyonce breathed as he began also stripping out of his clothes, throwing them on the ground and then getting on top of her in the bed so his body was flush on top of hers with his arm between them, his thumb rubbing rough circles against her clit.

 

Beyonce pulled her shirt off over her head and undid her bra. Jordan immediately responed by burying his face against her chest, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth until it hardened under his tongue and then releasing it with a slight popping noise. Beyonce gripped him by his hair as he did it, gritting her teeth and grunting slightly, trying not to cant her hips up too desperately into his hand.

 

She loved the weight of his body on top of her- muscular but just a little soft. And always with a pleasant warmth that made her think of lazy Sundays in their apartment, lying on the floor by their window and feeling the warmth of the sun pouring in through the glass on their faces as they laughed and sang. His skin seemed to radiate those memories everytime he touched her.

 

She spit into her hand and put it between their bodies and began stroking his cock, the firm thickness of it familiar in her palm. She knew how he liked to be touched. Which places along his shaft she should move slower, how to tease the edge of his head with her thumb as she reached the top, how to stroke her fingertips along the shape of his balls with every downstroke. She loved how when she touched him he bit his lip. Big blue eyes the color of ocean water heavy lidded looking down at her, blinking too long every so often as if he was falling out of focus from the pleasure he was feeling.

 

“Fuck me” Beyonce whispered, kissing and nipping at his jawline. “I can’t wait any longer.”

 

Jordan fucked her slow and steady at first, holding her hips and rolling his own into her in a teasingly languid rhythm. Then he adjusted himself, hoisted her up so she’s on her back but her hips are lifted off the bed more and began thrusting into her in earnest. Every stroke filled her up entirely and before long she was moaning and gripping the bed sheets with both hands, twisting the egyptian cotton between her fingers as she cries out to get fucked harder, more, faster.

 

They switched positions, Jordan pulled out despite Beyonce’s protests and leaned back, pulling her onto his lap so she bounced on his dick, wrapping her legs around his back and holding onto him by the shoulders with her hands, kissing and sucking marks onto his neck.

 

He finally came after she’d already come twice. She felt warmth in the deepest part of her and her vision went white for a minute as she threw her head back, riding out the orgasm with shaking thighs and his named yelled at full volume.

 

She flopped down on the bed, panting hard and Jordan did the same. He looked beautiful post coital. His lips were swollen and full, dark red and his eyes seemed bluer than ever. His cheeks even got a cute flush to them and his hair got all mussed up.

 

“Good weekend so far?” Jordan said, breathless.

 

Beyonce grinned. “C’mon. We gotta go try out that jacuzzi tub.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
